Monsieur Polk said. He stood up and put his cigar in
the ashtray before leaning over to shake Beau's hand. "You know," he said softly, "what a field day our gossip columnists in the newspapers will have with
this?"
"We know." Beau looked at me. "We're
prepared for all that as long as we get Pearl back." "Very well. Good luck with Madame Tate,"
Monsieur Polk said, and we left.
"I feel so-w--eak, Beau, so weak and afraid," I
said as we left the building for our car.
"You can't present yourself to that woman
while you're in this state of mind, Ruby. Let's stop for
something to eat to build your strength. Let's be
optimistic and strong. Lean on me whenever you have
to," he said, his face dark, his eyes down. "This is
really all my fault," he murmured. "It was my idea,
my doing."
"You can't blame yourself solely, Beau. I knew
what I was doing and I wanted to do it. I should have
known better than to think we could splash water in
the face of Destiny."
He hugged me to him and we got into our car
and started for the bayou. As we rode, I rehearsed the
things I would say. I had no appetite when we stopped
to eat, but Beau insisted I put something in my
stomach.
The late afternoon grew darker and darker as
the sun took a fugitive position behind some long,
feather
brushed storm clouds. All the blue sky seemed
to fall behind us as we drove on toward the bayou and
the confrontation that awaited. As familiar places and